


Beachfront Scene

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [104]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 17:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14835773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: Warnings for heavy verbal and physical humiliation, face-slapping, CBT, anal play and head shaving





	Beachfront Scene

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Antony Starr/Stephen Amell storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).
> 
> This is a new log and has not previously been posted to the game.

Antony's arranged to have use of the metal arbour by the pool and beachfront bar, figuring they have a built-in audience there. He's let the concierge list their scene - complete with warnings for heavy verbal and physical humiliation, CBT, anal play and head shaving - in the resort's daily newsletter. Thankfully there's another couple pools and lots of entrances to the beach so anyone who's not into the same shit they are can find themselves a way out - and to the beach.

Shaver charged and cuffs thrown into a bag along with a few other things, Antony turns to Stephen, gaze raking hotly over his boy. "Ready?" They've already eaten lunch, made it light, easily digested and Antony's changed into a pair of combat style board shorts, chest left bare.

Stephen shakes out his hands, nerves kicked in just after lunch and he's been dealing with thoughts of calling this off - experiencing this level of humiliation at Antony's hands is one thing, doing so in front of a crowd of strangers is something else. "Yeah," he nods, reaching up to pet his slave collar, finding comfort in the warm metal.

"I am so proud of you," Antony says, moving in close, his lips pressed to the corner of Stephen's mouth. "You're my good boy - and everyone's going to be so fucking jealous."

Stephen's breath hitches at the kiss. "Tell me you're proud of me when we're done. I'm nervous as fuck that I'm going to let you down."

"You won't," Antony promises, taking Stephen's hand and giving it a squeeze.

"How do you know, how can you be so sure?" Stephen holds tight to Antony's hand.

Antony locks up behind them, the bag slung over his shoulder while he keeps hold of Stephen's hand. "Because I wouldn't let you," he says simply.

And that is Stephen's safety net. He might doubt himself, he might be able to convince himself that he can't live up to Antony's standards, but he trusts Antony. Trusts him with his life, his submission. 

"Thank you," he says softly. 

Antony smiles, dropping another kiss on the corner of Stephen's mouth without a hitch in his step. "I love you."

Stephen drops his chin a little more as they step out into the sunshine. He's wearing shorts, his collar, nothing more, he makes an effort to concentrate on his breathing, to quell the nervous fluttering in his belly and to start the slow slide into headspace. _I am his boy, his toy... he will keep me safe, he won't let me fail him..._

There's a bigger crowd than even Antony expected when they arrive at the pool area. It's a gorgeous day and every single lounger is full but chairs and tables have been pulled up and people have obviously moved loungers closer on the beach as well. "We okay with these numbers?" he asks security, getting a quick nod in return. Anyone gets out of hand or blocks the paths, this guy's here to take care of it.

 _Fuck!_ Stephen blinks when he realises all these people are here to see him _taken apart_. He blows out a breath as he follows Antony to the metal arbour where a tarp had been pinned out beneath it. "I can do this," he murmurs to himself, determined not to make eye contact with anyone other than Antony if he can. The noise from the crowd rises as they realise he and Antony have arrived.

"Just focus on me, boy," Antony says, pulling the cuffs from the bag, keeping close to Stephen. "Take your shorts off and give me your wrists."

"Yes Sir." Even saying those two words seems to ease the tension in Stephen's posture. He pushes his shorts down and sets them to one side then straightening he offers Antony his wrists. He keeps his gaze lowered, concentrating instead on the dog tags that lie against the hair on Antony's chest. 

Antony wraps each wrist in leather, making sure the restraints aren't too tight. He moves Stephen under the front of the arbour, clipping each cuff to the metal between two rungs, giving his boy some room to move, his feet firmly on the tarp beneath him. "How's that feel?" he asks, knowing he's going to have Stephen like this for a while.

"I'm good," Stephen nods, he lifts his gaze to meet Antony's. "I'm going to be really good."

"Glad to hear it," Antony murmurs, cupping the front of Stephen's throat in his hand, their gazes locked. "My filthy little fistpig whore."

And despite his misgivings, despite the butterflies in his belly, Stephen responds immediately. His lips part and his breath catches hard in his throat, a red flush colours his throat and chest and his eyes widen as the pupils blow wide. _I am his... always his..._

Antony slowly tightens his grip, just to the edge of stealing Stephen's breath, before he drops his hand. "You're mine. Every fucking inch of you," he says, running his palm over his boy's chest and stomach, fingers pinching and tweaking his nipples.

"Yes Sir," Stephen whispers, because he needs Antony to know that he understands that - that all the men before him, the ones who claimed to be Stephen's dominant were no such thing - because he is and always was made for this man. "Always was," he adds, his body responding to the pinches, the touch.

Antony nods. It doesn't matter that they're surrounded, the focus of everyone there, _this_ is between them. All of it. He wraps his hand around Stephen's cock, stroking slowly, the flesh swelling in his grasp.

"Nnnggh," Stephen rumbles out a pleasure sound at the touch, his body leaning in to his Sir. He's half aware he's likely to get a sharp, unexpected bite of pain very soon, but that doesn't stop him enjoying this. 

"You're such a slut for this," Antony murmurs, letting his fingers tease at the ring in Stephen's cock, his other hand cupping Stephen's balls, squeezing lightly.

"Hmmm Yessir," Stephen groans, although so far all the play with his cock ring has been light - in deference to its need to heal - so far it's proved to have been a rather wonderful idea, the head of Stephen's cock is even more sensitive and he can't wait until it's fully healed and he can enjoy having Antony go all out in abusing it.

"For me touching you, hurting you..." Antony continues, voice soft, squeezing a little harder as he ever so lightly flicks the ring with his fingers. "Fucking you, filling you..." He slaps the side of Stephen's cock with his palm. Hard.

"B...bb..breaking me," Stephen manages to stutter out as the pain blossoms in his groin, he's known it was coming, but even so he's not quite prepared for how his breath hitches and his body goes taut, making the restraints rattle against the metal arbour. 

Antony grins and grabs Stephen's cock again, stroking it to full rigidness before delivering another slap.

A bitten off noise and Stephen finds himself gritting his teeth. Precum is already bubbling from the slit, smeared over the snug fitting ring, dampening Antony's hand. 

"Look at that," Antony murmurs, tightening his grip on Stephen's balls even further. "You're nothing but a fucking pig to be used and abused. You need it, you fucking crave it..." Another slap.

The words, the way Antony uses _that_ tone has Stephen sliding further off into his subspace. Humiliation washes over him, shame colours his skin, because those words are true, right now, right here they are absolutely true. 

Antony drops his hands but he stays in Stephen's space, pressed close, the heat of his body radiating into his boy's as he reaches for the bag on the ground. He pulls a simple leather cock ring from it and a thick flared plug, the shaver shoved in his pocket for later. Snaps the cock ring into place, making it just tight enough to give Stephen some help in holding out.

His cock absolutely rock hard, Stephen sways a little at the almost impersonal touch of his Sir, he licks over his lower lip and leans in, inhaling the scent of sun warmed skin from Antony. _Sir... all... everything..._ He blinks slowly, eyes fixed on his owner's face.

Sliding a hand over Stephen's stomach, Antony shifts behind him, the bulge in his shorts pressed between his boy's cheeks. "You're such a filthy bitch," he growls softly, lubing up the plug. "My fucking anal pig - we're gonna fill this cunt of yours, open you up nice and wide, make sure you're ready for my cock, my fist, whatever I fucking want to give you."

As always the verbal abuse is key part of any humiliation scene for Stephen, he both craves and hates it, an ongoing conflict of fighting then surrendering to the inherent need he has to be abased by his dominant. No one used 'pig' before Antony, in fact no one ever spoke to him like this before, never with this much disdain, and it's perfect. Antony, as always knows exactly how to push him, and how far.

The plug slicked, Antony presses the tip to Stephen's hole, pushing in that first slow inch before twisting it home.

Without his Sir to focus on, all Stephen can see are the people in front of him, watching, their attention on his nakedness, his vulnerability and the deviant things being done to him. For a brief moment he experiences a moment of panic, his body tension shifts and his breathing picks up, his hands bunching into fists above his head.

"I've got you," Antony breathes, mouth pressed to the curve of Stephen's ear. Recognizing that tension, that discomfort. "Focus on me, boy. My hands, my body, my voice, what I'm doing to you..."

Stephen closes his eyes - it's the most obvious thing to do, and then he turns his head a little, leaning into Antony's mouth. He can feel the tickle of his Sir's breath on his skin, it soothes him a little, his shoulders relax in response, a slow steady breath and then a barely there nod to let Antony know that he's back with the programme.

Antony runs his hands over Stephen's chest and cock, twisting his nipples, abusing his cock and balls. Grinds himself against his boy's ass, pushing the plug in hard.

That level of physical stimuli would distract even the most determined person, it pushes Stephen over into the depths of his subspace, where all noise retreats leaving just a soft hum and the sound of his Sir. Pliant, his submission absolute, Stephen really is nothing more than Antony's toy.

"You're my dirty little fuck slut, my cum dump, my bitch," Antony growls, biting at Stephen's bared throat as he pinches his nipples, slaps at his cock, squeezes his balls. Grabs the plug, twisting it half way out and rams it back into his boy's cunt. "You fucking _exist_ for my pleasure..."

Body taunt, muscles corded, Stephen writhes beneath Antony's words, his 'loving' touches. He manages to slur out a 'Yessir' at some point, not in reply to any specific taunt, but at them all, at the truth of all of his Sir's words. Beads of precum drip and string from the slit of his aching dick, those silvery strings broken with each blow.

Antony drags his nails over Stephen's skin, hard, marking and bruising him. Fucks him with the plug until his cunt's gaping wide open every time he pulls it out. All the while growling words of abuse and degradation.

Stephen's legs start to weaken, he stumbles as Sir rams the plug home, delirious with pleasure pain, his head full of _pig_ , _slut_ and _cunt_.

"You worthless piece of shit," Antony murmurs. "Can't even keep yourself upright." He unsnaps the cuffs from the arbour and pushes Stephen to his knees.

Stephen's knees hit the floor simultaneously, any shock is mitigated by the pad beneath the tarp, even so he rocks a little, one hand coming down to steady himself before he pushes back up, making a concerted effort to correct his posture and lift his chin up. "Sir...sir please," he stutters out quietly. 

"Please what, you fucking bitch," Antony says, shifting so he can slap Stephen across the face, the power behind the blow pulled enough that the bruise won't be too long-lasting. "Please what?" he demands, grabbing Stephen's jaw and forcing his head back.

Forcing his eyes open Stephen meets his Sir's gaze, his own a little unfocused. He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Break boy..."

Fuck. Antony's already so hard he could cut glass but that? He bites back a groan and slides his hand into Stephen's hair, pulling his head back harder. "You think you deserve that, you worthless no-good piece of shit. You think you _deserve_ my fucking attentions? My breaking you?"

A single tear escapes the corner of one of Stephen's eyes, he blinks it away. "M'yours..." It's all he has, all he has to offer, here on his knees, naked, humiliated, fucked open for all these people to see.

Antony nods. "Mine. Every fucking inch of you," he agrees, finally pulling the shaver from his pocket. "Keep your head up and still, pig," he orders, stepping back behind Stephen, a quick glance at the shaver to double-check the settings before he lays the blade to Stephen's scalp, shearing the hair to a buzz down the middle.

In the moments before Antony sets the shaver to his head, Stephen resets his posture, shoulders back, hand set on his thighs, palms up. He stares ahead, his face and throat burning with shame as his Sir presses down and his hair comes away in the wake of the shaver. 

Antony takes his time, steadily shaving Stephen's head, the hair littering Stephen's skin and the tarp beneath them. Taking this from his boy, ownership over something public, so fucking visible, only cements and strengthens the relationship between them.

Concentrating on the press of his Sir's fingers against his skin as Antony tilts his head this way and that, Stephen makes no noise, doesn't move other than where Sir's hand directs. He refuses to 'see' the people watching them, watching him being debased for his Sir's pleasure.

Stephen's head shaved completely, sheared to the closest setting, Antony tosses the shaver on top of the bag and reaches for his zipper. "Cunt in the air, pig."

As gracefully as he can Stephen bends forward, hands flat to the floor, forehead set between them. He shuffles his knees back and further apart before tilting his hips and presenting his Sir with his greasy, slicked up, abused hole. 

Antony twists the plug free, pushing three then four fingers into his boy's open cunt. He fucks them in and out, roughly, stretching him mercilessly. "Push it out, pig," he orders, leaving him gaping. "Give me that fucking rose." Already reaching for a fucking condom, annoyed as hell they have to use them, but that's the price they pay for being able to do this.

Reaching back with one hand, Stephen slips his fingers around the puffy rim of his hole. He bears down, tugging the flesh until it unfurls, slick, red, flesh exposed for his Sir, it leaves him whimpering, a slight trembling in his hand as he sets it back beside his head.

"Look at that," Antony breathes. "I'll bet you're the fucking nastiest piece of shit anal pig these guys have ever seen. Fucking cunt wrecked, turned inside out for your sir..." He kneels, fitting cock to the opening and pushing in.

Stephen can't recall the last time he wept during a scene - but he is when Antony presses his cock into him. The words, the pleasurepain, the feel of his hair on the floor beneath his fingertips, knowing this isn't over until Sir says so, until he's been used as his owner's fuck hole and cum dump.

Stephen's tears only serve to increase Antony's arousal and he draws this out, slowly pushing his cock into that open rose. "Keep it out there, pig, You keep that cunt open and that rose out there, fucktoy."

God knows he tries, bears down, even reaches back again to try and pull the flesh back, but soon enough it slips back in, in the wake of Antony's cock as he presses home. Stephen almost panics trying to pull it back out again, not wanting to displease his Sir, not here, not with all these people watching him be his Sir's toy.

"That's it," Antony drawls, the words the only praise he's going to give his boy right now. "I'm gonna fuck your ass, your cunt, use you like the nasty filthy pig you are..." His thrusts picking up speed, power, and there's no way Stephen could keep the rose out against that.

Lifting his head from the floor, Stephen's pushed forward with each thrust, tears drip from his face onto his hands, his cut hair, he tries to brace himself and push back against each brutal punch of Antony's hips.

Antony pounds into Stephen, holding nothing back, teeth gritted tight with the power it takes to fuck someone this hard for this long. But finally he gives in, pleasure crashing over him and he shouts out his climax, hips pumping his seed into the latex between them.

Stephen's barely able to stay on his knees by the time Antony's done, his breath is erratic, his skin sheened in sweat, tears and snot are smeared over his face. His own cock, still hard, is dribbling cum beneath him in sympathy.

Antony takes a second to catch his breath but then he's pulling back, fingers tight around the condom to keep it in place. "Turn around, pig," he orders. "I'm not done with you yet." He strips off the latex, careful to keep his seed inside, hand reaching for the nape of Stephen's neck as he turns. "You know you want this," he says, pressing the condom against Stephen's face.

 _Ohgod!Ohfuck..._ Stephen reels, and it's only Antony's hand on his neck that stops him keeling over onto his sore, bruised ass. All he can smell is sex, his own body, Antony's semen, latex. His mouth opens, he can't breath through a nose full of snot, and Antony pushes until the contents spill over his lower lip, some goes into his mouth, the rest is smeared over his chin and cheek. 

"You sloppy little bitch. We're not fucking done here until you've got every last drop in you," Antony says, shoving Stephen's face harder into the mess. "Eat up, pig."

And it's then that Stephen comes utterly undone. His body shudders, weeping becomes noisy sobs as he tries to suck Antony's cum from the limp condom, his humiliation is total. Absolute.

Antony nods to himself. There they go. He eases up on his grip on the back of Stephen's neck, fingers manipulating the latex so Stephen can get all of it. His attention only now flickering for a moment to their audience - Christ - who are obviously enjoying themselves. "That's it," he murmurs, eyes back on Stephen. "Every last drop."

"P...pp..please, no more..." Stephen whimpers, he tries to open his eyes to meet Antony's "Please Sir.."

"Not until you get all of it," Antony says, shaking his head. "You're almost there. Two more licks."

Two more. Stephen steels himself, takes a breath and makes a concerted effort to finish his task, even as he trembles beneath Antony's hands.

The moment Stephen's managed two more, Antony pulls the condom away, tossing it aside on the tarp. "Good boy," he says. "You did it. I'm so fucking proud of you."

Stephen slumps over onto his ass, his legs tucked up beside him, he looks up at his Sir, through eyes swollen from crying, with the remains of his hair stuck to his face with cum and snot. He's never felt so naked, so vulnerable in his life as he does right now. 

Antony cups Stephen's cheek, shifting his own body to shield his boy from their audience. Leans in and kisses him, not giving a shit about the mess. "I am _so_ proud of you," he whispers fiercely. "I love you so much."

"Please... I need..." Stephen can't even articulate what he needs, apart from privacy, quiet... he wants to curl in on himself and disappear. 

Antony nods to security, a sign they've been waiting for and privacy screens are moved into place, a staffer stepping up with a blanket and water, their gaze turned away from the couple. "I know," he says, although he doesn't, not completely. He's only guessing. He takes the blanket and wraps it around Stephen's shoulders, cracks the water open for his boy, making sure he takes a few gulps. "You want a few minutes here or should we go back to our room?" Despite the short distance, there's a golf cart standing by to take them back.

It's all Stephen can do to process the question put to him, he stares at Antony, water dripping from his lip where he's spilled it. He frowns, tries to wipe at his face. "Room..." 

Antony helps Stephen to his feet, the blanket kept wrapped around him, the cock ring discreetly removed and left on the tarp. They make it to the golf cart and back to their suite and Antony sits Stephen on the closed toilet while he drops his shorts and gets them both into the huge rainfall shower.

Stephen finds he can't stay on his feet, even if the water is total bliss. He sinks down onto his knees, his face turned up to the fall of the water. The quiet of the room matches the gentle buzz in his head with no noises to jar and distress him. 

"Here," Antony says, joining Stephen on the floor, a bar of soap in his hands. He washes Stephen, thoroughly, gently, using the handheld shower to get all the hair and fluids from his skin.

The touching helps; sure, firm and now loving hands ground Stephen, pulling him in back a little more to the present. He lifts his hand to his head and runs his fingers over the stubble left on his scalp, his brow furrowing at the odd almost velvet feel of it.

"It looks good," Antony says with a smile.

"Am... is boy clean?" Stephen wipes over his face with his hand, his eyes are a little sore and he needs to drink something sweet. He's done with the shower.

Antony nods again, quickly rinsing himself down. He rises, shutting the shower off, and reaches for Stephen, helping him to his feet. There are nice thick towels hanging at the ready and he wraps one around his hips while he dries Stephen off. "You want Coke or juice?" he asks, walking his boy to the bed.

"...don't know," Stephen mumbles as he climbs up onto the bed, his butt is sore from the reaming Antony gave him and he turns to put his weight on his hip instead.

"I'll grab both," Antony tells him, making a quick trip to the bar. He settles on the bed beside Stephen, cracks open the bottle of Coke, pouring some of it into a glass and offers it to his boy. It's obvious Stephen's still pretty far under and Antony'll make more solid efforts to bring him up at some point but sometimes Stephen likes to stay down so for now he's just watching him closely.

Stephen wraps his hand both around the glass and Antony's hand, he takes a drink, then another, the cool, overly sweet soda slides easily down his throat. When he's had enough he pushes it away and curls up, lying down so his head is set on Antony's knee. He's clean, it's quiet and he doesn't have to move, and he can't think of anything beyond that right now.

Antony settles back, picking up his book from the bedside table and reading the same paragraph over and over as he keeps glancing at Stephen. When his boy hasn't fallen asleep after a good fifteen minutes, he puts the book back and runs his hand over Stephen's shorn scalp. "Hey. It's time to come back," he says softly but firmly.

Closing his eyes at the touch, Stephen blows out a breath. He feels disconnected, almost numb, and he's not sure he can even articulate that, his thoughts are still hazy and scattered. It's unfamiliar and not entirely pleasant.

"Stephen," Antony says, continuing to pet his boy. "I need you here. It's time to come back."

His name has always been that trigger, the anchor he could hold onto and start to pull himself back up. Antony used to use it very early in their relationship, but it's been a while since he needed that. He takes another deep breath and tries to push up to sit.

"That's it. Come sit with me, Stephen," Antony says again, shifting a little lower, meeting his boy part way. "You've been so good for me but it's time to come back."

They end up half reclined, with Stephen's head resting against Antony's chest, his Sir's heartbeat thumping, comfortingly, in his ear. He's slid his arm over and around Antony's waist and he's holding on, as if Antony is stopping him from floating away. "I don't feel right," he mumbles quietly. "I feel off." The use of 'I' over boy showing that he's come up part if not all the way.

Antony nods. "I'm not surprised," he says softly. "That was a really intense scene. It might take a bit."

"Don't normally feel like this though." He shivers and presses closer, "Worked for you though yeah?" Because if it hit all of Antony's buttons he can find satisfaction in that.

"Hugely," Antony grins, hugging Stephen even tighter. "You were fantastic." Later, when Stephen's fully back, he'll ask more about how his boy felt about the scene but right now, getting him back on a more even keel is more important.

"I'm glad." And he is. It means so much that Antony is content, it eases part of whatever is unsettling him. "You think, if you asked, they'd make me some salted caramel brownies?" Stephen asks quietly, 'they' being the club.

"Definitely," Antony says, picking up the phone from the bedside table. "Anything else? I'll have them serve us dinner in here, unless you feel like going back out. We'll order up a movie, cuddle on the couch..."

"I'm not going anywhere," Stephen's words have an unexpected vehemence to them, and he pulls back a little. "Um, yeah dinner here, please." 

Antony orders dinner in for them, including Stephen's request for salted caramel brownies. In the back of his mind he's concerned about the way Stephen's reacting, how far down he was and maybe still is to a certain extent, and now he's wondering if _he_ was a fucking moron for agreeing to do the scene in public, especially so soon after the gym scene and Stephen's seeing the doctor. Christ. "We should grab one of those waterfront beach beds tomorrow," he suggests, hanging up. "We can pull the curtains down, have our privacy."

"I don't know," Stephen gives a light shrug, he can't even contemplate leaving their suite right now. He lets his fingers play over his scalp again. "Did you... did you look at them?"

"A couple times but I was really focused on you," Antony says, reaching for the water they'd brought in with them earlier.

"And?" He tilts his head up to look at his lover, watching as Antony's throat works as he swallows. 

"And they obviously thought it was really hot. We had their full attention and the crowd just kept getting bigger," Antony says with a smile.

Which is the last thing Stephen wanted to hear. He gives a brief nod and looks away, out through the patio doors and the sea beyond. "M'glad I pleased you," he murmurs.

"What about you?" Antony asks, his smile fading. "Did you pay them any attention? Did having them there add anything for you?"

As he's come to, come up from his subspace, Stephen's become aware of the root of his discomfort - or at least he thinks he has. "I tried not to see them, and no... I don't think I want to do that again." He pushes away out of Antony's arms, sits up, his shoulders hunched over, his head in his hand. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Antony asks, putting his hand on Stephen's back. "It was hot, don't get me wrong, it was hot as hell, but I don't care if we do it again. For all the attention I paid them - for all the difference they made to the actual scene - they might as well not even been there."

"You broke me, like I asked... I just wish it hadn't been in front of all those people, what arouses me when I'm on my knees, sometimes horrifies me when I'm not." He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "And it was my fucking idea," he shakes his head. "Yeah, I dunno, it was different to when we've played in the bar... this... it felt different."

"I'm sorry it didn't live up to the fantasy," Antony says softly, rubbing Stephen's back.

"The scene did - it was hot, it was intense and nasty... but the thought of walking out that door tomorrow? Seeing people look at me, and not knowing if they saw me like that... it makes me feel sick." It's a truly awful thing to say, but he's promised Antony honesty, and he's too raw to dissemble here.

"Why?" Antony asks, his chest tight, his heart aching for his husband. "Because you think they'll think less of you?"

Stephen doesn't answer. Because if he says 'yes' it implies things about how he values the gift of his submission to his Sir. "I don't think now's the best time to talk this over," he turns his head to look at Antony. "I think some processing time, some perspective will mean I can understand more what didn't work for me, then we know what to avoid in future."

Antony nods. "That's fine. Let me know if you want to talk about it," he says, although he hates leaving things unsettled. "You could go see that doctor when we get home, if it's still bothering you."

 _Ouch._ Stephen turns a little more. "No, I'm certain it's something we can sort out between us Tony, it's fine, the way we play? We're going to hit stuff, and the more we push limits, the more likely that's going to happen."

"I know," Antony says, and he does. "I just meant if you didn't want to talk to me about it. I don't want make things more difficult and I'd rather have you talking to _someone_. If you think you need to," he clarifies, then sighs, not sure he's not making things worse. "I know we're going to get our wires crossed," he starts over. "I know we're going to have fuck ups, things aren't going to turn out the way we think they are, but I need you to know I'm here to talk when you want to talk and if you can't talk to me, I want you to talk to someone and that doctor guy seemed decent, the way you described him."

"Oh shush," Stephen can't help but huff out a tired noise of amusement. "We're fine, I just need to process, and I can't do that on an empty stomach." He reaches out to poke at Antony, noting his hand is a lot steadier. "I will talk to you, I promise."

"Okay." Antony smiles, eyes crinkling, and pokes Stephen back.

"I need to pee," Stephen scoots carefully off the bed. He never takes for granted exactly how steady his legs might be after a scene like that, but he finds he's okay as he makes his way to the bathroom.

Antony grabs a scotch from the bar and settles back on the bed, his pillow propped against the headboard. Hopefully the food won't take too long. He wouldn't mind eating, watching a little TV and calling it a night.


End file.
